


Taste of Darkness

by Verkaiking



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Outlaw Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verkaiking/pseuds/Verkaiking
Summary: Sparks fly between the new, evil queen of Naboo and the Jedi knight sent to arrest her





	Taste of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> For Inspired by OQ Day 1  
> Inspired by Starscythe's gorgeous Star Wars OQ manip, which you can find on my twitter post for this story.

The new queen of Naboo is stubborn.

The new queen of Naboo is harsh.

The new queen of Naboo is evil.

At least, that’s what Robin was told when he was sent to retrieve her, capture her and bring her before the Council to be judged for crimes not seen since Palpatine himself ruled the galaxy.

It’s been many years since then, and the Jedi have changed, have dwindled, have died.

But Robin is one of those few left still in touch with the Force. He has no proper training, not when there aren’t enough Jedi out there to help him understand his skills, but he has learned, oh, how he’s learned.

It’s true that there are atrocities happening in Naboo, many of them caused or aided by the queen, but there’s something about her, something sweet and soft and lovely that hides behind her many masks of imposing regal attire, and he’s determined to find out what it is.

It intrigues him, enchants him in a way he didn’t think would be possible after he lost his wife many years ago. The Force, he knows, is strong in her, in this Regina, he can feel it wrapping around her like a protective hug, power erupting from her very skin as she exacts some kind of vengeance on her land.

She has a tutor, he’s heard, someone skilled in the ways of the Dark Side, and Robin would hazard a guess that she doesn’t know any better, doesn’t know how to handle her power other than by unleashing it in ways that bring suffering rather than healing, especially when someone as powerful as Rumplestiltskin is the one channeling her energy.

Robin’s learned to move on foot around Naboo, leaving behind the old podracer so as not to attract any unwanted attention. He’s found places to hide, places to eat, and places to seek information.

He’s even found a place to watch her. Up in the highest point of a tall Muja fruit tree that shades her gardens, the dense canopy hiding him perfectly from the guards that seem to always be shadowing her.

She’s stunning. The Council failed to mention that. And how naive of them, Robin thinks, to send him after someone so unbelievably enticing in every way and expect him to imprison her.

He appreciates the Jedi Council, he understands their motivations, their goals, their methods, but he’s not one to see things as clean-cut as they do. He understands their paranoia, certainly, their need to eliminate a threat rather than educate and nurture it. He’s heard the stories, everyone has, he knows how much it cost the galaxy to lose Anakin Skywalker and his grandson, Ben Skywalker, to the Dark Side all those years ago. He’s not surprised that they’ve already dubbed this queen an enemy rather than a chance for redemption.

They see things as black and white, and Robin understands.

But the queen is a living, breathing, gorgeous masterpiece in shades of gray, with darkness and light mixing exquisitely to create the nuanced, broken soul he watches by the royal gardens every afternoon.

Her dress is the color of the sunset, white extending to pink and orange and yellow as the skirt falls down her slender form. Her shoulders are exposed, her skin golden like the sun as the wind blows around her, the ornate metal clasp around her neck glinting in the dying light.

“Beautiful,” Robin says under his breath.

And then she turns, looks straight up to where he’s hiding, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Robin gasps.

He doesn’t know how he’s hearing her, or how  _ she _ heard him. It’s impossible. He’s all the way up here, there’s no way she could have—

“I’d rather confront my spies face to face, you know,” she says then, her voice only a smidge louder, and he’s so startled by her that he has no choice but to acquiesce.

Still pondering how this is even happening, he makes his way down from the Muja tree, jumping off the branch and activating his lightsaber in the process, his stance defensive and ready for battle when he lands softly on the grass.

She’s still standing there, the blue glow from his lightsaber dancing off her features as she studies him, her eyes roaming him from head to toe and back up with curiosity.

“You can relax,” she tells him, sounding bored. “My guards won’t come here unless I ask them to, and I have no intention of doing that.”

“You don’t?” he asks, doubtful, but deactivates and pockets his lightsaber all the same.

Her response is a shrug, a dark smile as she amends, “Not yet.”

“How did you—?” Robin starts, but she cuts him off.

“Hear you?” she asks, leveling him with a sardonic stare. “I didn’t. I felt you.”

That... cannot be.

Robin has never ventured into the Dark Side. Has always kept himself closed off to its seductive powers to avoid going down the same path many Jedi have before. If she could feel his presence then the only explanation would be...

“You can feel the Light Side of the Force?” he asks, stunned.

“Oh, is that where you stand?” she asks, rolling her eyes at him.

“I stand for what is right,” he tells her, unable to keep the hint of defensiveness in his tone.

“And I don’t, then, according to you.”

“You tell me. Is murdering people the right thing to do?” he asks, defiant. His question shocks her, though, has her looking away from him and out at the expanse of grass that extends before them, all the way to the stone-carved balcony that borders the lake.

“That was an accident,” she defends.

“All due respect, Your Majesty, but nothing Rumplestiltskin does is an accident,” Robin counters. “He’s evil. He enjoys doing evil things, he enjoys the Dark Side, and he’s dragging you in with him.”

“I am the Queen, no one drags me into anything!” she says fiercely, but he just watches her, waits, feels her anger start to bristle within her, little tendrils of electricity touching the Force around them. He dares, after closing his eyes, to send calming waves her way, to use his knowledge of the Light to soothe that anger as best he can, but she rolls her eyes at him, rejects his help, and petulantly informs him, “I don’t shut myself off from any side, like you Jedi seem so adamant to do. Light or Dark, I feel everything.”

“Must be quite the burden,” he commiserates, and the queen gives a humorless chuckle in reply.

“You’ve no idea,” she says, and he notices then how afraid she is of her own power. She recovers fast, though, turns to glare at him and add, “I am not weak.”

“I would never presume you to be,” he defends, lifting his hands up to his chest, palms facing her as he walks closer. “But even the strongest of us need help sometimes.”

“Is that why you’re here, then,” the queen sneers, “to help me? The Jedi Council would  _ love _ that, I’m sure.”

“Fuck the Council,” says Robin, and that, he knows, she was not expecting.

She chuckles at his boldness despite her surprise, then walks closer and orders, “Your name, Jedi?”

“Robin, Your Majesty.”

There’s something dark that flashes in her eyes at the title, something that displeases her, her nose scrunching up a bit as she looks away and murmurs, “I prefer Regina.”

“As you wish, Regina,” Robin answers, giving her an apologetic smile when she startles a bit, as though she hadn’t meant for him to hear her.

“You say you can help me,” she begins as she walks around him, like a predator circling its prey.

“I can,” he insists. “I don’t know everything, but I know enough. I can teach you how to handle the Force, how to repel the Dark Side.”

“What if I don’t want to repel the Dark Side?” she asks then, and he can’t see her at the moment, but there’s fear in her voice even as she tries to remain steadfast.

“Of course you want to.”

“What makes you think you know me so well?” she asks, her eyes boring into him.

“Well, for one, I’d be charred to a crisp by now, if you didn’t,” Robin throws back, giving her a small grin as he cranes his head to the side to look at her.

Her answer is a simple “True,” her nod accompanied by a derisive laugh.

“Give me a chance, Regina,” Robin pleads.

“Run along, Jedi, I don’t need you,” she huffs, her hands shooing him away as she turns to leave.

“I can help you stop the migraines,” he offers then, and she gasps, rounds on him and demands to know how he found out about that.

“I didn’t, but it’s a common side effect of the Dark Side,” he tells her. “Using that much negative energy takes a toll on your body. The Force itself can heal you, if you know how to use it.”

“And you know how to do that,” she questions, doubtful.

“I do. Here, let me.” He extends his hands towards her as slowly as he dares, waits as she looks at them, then at his face, thinking it over before she huffs and places both her hands in his.

Robin tries, he really, really tries to ignore the lick of heat that erupts from her touch. It feels good, though, holding her hands like this, feels warm and soft and... right.

“Close your eyes,” he asks, his tone low now, hopefully enough to calm her as he focuses on channeling the energy that surrounds them.

The Force floats all around them, swirls of light and shadow alike floating around Regina, an aura of indecision and power framing her beauty. He sees spots of red light on her temples and brow, on her hands where they hold his, on her stomach, her chest... she carries more pain than should be possible for someone so small.

The Dark Side has tired her body, her soul, and Robin seeks to fix that, taps into his own share of the Force and lets it chase away all the darkness. It’ll come back, he knows. It always does if you let it. But for now, he can offer her this short relief, can earn her trust by soothing her pain, and maybe this way, she’ll let him help her.

She feels it instantly, he can tell by the way her shoulders relax, her frown disappears, her chest swells as she takes the first true breath in who knows how long.

“How... how did you...?”

“The Light Side can heal, just as the Dark Side can hurt,” he recites, still holding her hands, his thumbs rubbing softly over hers.

“Teach me,” she says, her voice a mere whisper.

“I told you, you have to reject the Dark Side, that’s how it works. The stronger you become in one side of the Force, the weaker you become in the other, it’s the only way to retain the balance. If you want the healing powers of the Light, you must let go of the Dark.”

She’s silent for a while, looking out at the setting sun once again.

“Tell you what, think it over tonight...” Robin offers, crouching down and hovering his hand over the grass, eyes closed as he feels, smiling when he finds what he’s looking for.

He moves his hand to a spot just to the left of her foot, the hem of her skirt floating slightly in the wind as he takes a deep breath and pulls his hand up, sprouting the seed he’s found under the earth. It grows and grows, until its leaves and two of its small white flowers are bright and blooming two feet above the grass, a marker of sorts, for their next rendezvous.  “...if you accept, meet me here, by this plant, at sunrise tomorrow. I won’t arrest you if you choose not to come, but... please consider it. I can help you, Regina, I really can.”

He leaves then, allowing her no chance for a rebuttal as he lets the Force carry him back up the tree, branch by branch, until he’s high enough that he can drop to the other side of the wall, leaving her to ponder over their conversation.

* * *

Sunrise in Naboo is one of the most beautiful sights Robin’s ever laid eyes on. Try as he might to find something that compares, there’s still nothing more stunning than the bright sunlight as it rises to touch upon the grass, the leaves, the earth.

Except perhaps the figure now standing in the middle of the palace gardens, watching the sunrise with him, just as she has every morning for the past month.

He’d been overjoyed to find her there the morning after their first encounter, waiting for him just as they’d agreed. She’d been stubborn at first, adamant to keep both sides, despite promising not to, but she’d been shedding the darkness little by little. She’s both, he knows that, can never be just Light or just Dark, but the Light has taken residence in her, and while it is a struggle for her, she chooses the Light every day, and pride swells in his chest every single time.

The plant he brought forth from the ground that first night now stands a bush, laden with fragrant white flowers that perfume their lessons, the early light reflecting off the beads of morning dew and freshening up the grass.

She’s wearing yellows today. A simple gown in opaque ochre that illuminates her skin as it catches the emerging rays of Naboo’s sun, mesmerizing him as she always does. She’s looking out at the lake, and Robin has a perfect view of her back, of her curls flying about as the wind loosens them from the ribbon tied around her head.

“Good morning, Regina,” he whispers, knowing she’ll hear him anyway.

She turns, flashing him that disarming smile that he can’t get enough of. It had started as an elusive, satisfying thing, but had grown brighter and more frequent as their lessons progressed, and he knows he can’t teach her everything —there’s still so much more to learn, so much knowledge lost after the Jedi began to disappear— but the fact that he’s given her enough to make her smile like this on a regular basis is his proudest accomplishment.

Her eyes turn curious when she spies the basket in his hand, and Robin shrugs, offers a sheepish grin as he explains, “Thought we could have breakfast before our lesson today.”

That curiosity grows, her voice a low, sultry thing as she asks, “Breakfast?”

“Yes. You do eat, don’t you?” Robin teases, and she laughs, a breathy, melodious sound that makes his heart do little somersaults inside his chest.

He’s falling for her. Madly, unequivocally. Falling for her wit and her charm and that thinly-veiled vulnerability that shines through when she lets her guard down for him.

“Yes,” she answers. “But we’ve been at this for weeks and you’ve never once cared about food.”

“I, er... might have skipped dinner last night,” he explains, and as if to prove his point, his stomach growls, making her laugh again.

He’ll starve for days if it makes her chuckle like that.

“Alright, what have you brought for me?” she questions.

“Beans and pickled nerf meat,” he jokes, and she scrunches up her nose in the most comical, endearing way.

“Pickled nerf? Please. I’m a queen, and a bit more refined,” she quips, rolling her eyes.

“Have I offended Her Majesty’s delicate tastes?” Robin questions mockingly.

“I’m willing to wager anyone would be offended by pickled nerf,” she fires back, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at him.

With a laugh and a flourish, Robin removes the airy fabric covering the top of the basket, revealing its contents to her as he narrates, “Roasted vegetables, five-blossom bread, butter, and Muja-filled donuts for dessert.”

Her eyes light up, and her smile grows as she whispers, “You remembered.”

She’s referring to their first week of lessons, when she’d accidentally knocked some Muja fruit off the tree where they’d first met. They’d gotten to talking about the tree, and she’d revealed that Mujas were her favorite fruit, and these donuts her favorite dessert.

“I remember everything you’ve ever told me, Regina,” Robin says, surprised at the softness in his own voice.

The moment weighs on them both, his eyes lost in hers as they drift ever closer, and then a bird chirps loudly somewhere in the distance, the wind picks up, and the moment is interrupted.

“Right,” she says, unnecessarily wiping her hands on her skirt, and there’s a pink tint to her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“Come with me,” Robin says, and takes her hand before she can deny him, urging her to follow him. He’s been teaching her to use the Force to move, and he puts that to the test now, when he jumps over the balcony and onto the ground beneath.

“I... The last time I stepped out of the palace, people died,” she murmurs from above him, a quiet whisper carried down to him by the notes of her sorrow as she admits to her crime.

“That’s not who you are anymore,” he whispers back, but still she hesitates.

“Regina, I’m not afraid of you,” he presses, stretching an arm up and offering it to her.

“But you really, really should be,” she counters, and steps away from him, away from the balcony, retreating back into the safety of her gardens.

Robin jumps back up, throwing his legs over the ledge and landing back on palace grounds, following her.

“Regina, let me help,” he begs. “You’ve been doing so good. You’ve opened yourself to the Light, you’ve shunned the Dark Side, you can do this.”

“That’s just the thing, Robin, I haven’t been doing any of those things. Not really.”

That gives him pause, makes him frown at her.

“I never wished for the Dark,” she says, turning away from him. “I... I loved someone very much. My father, the former king. He was dying, wasting away, and here I was with all this power inside me and no way to save him from that disease.”

She speaks faster and faster with every word, truth tumbling out of her as tears spring to her eyes. “I’d heard of Rumplestiltskin before, so I... I sought his help. He could tell that the Force was strong in me. I don’t know how he could tell, but he could, and he... he needed someone who could tap into it, channel it, and I needed someone to heal my father, so...”

Robin feels his own heart beating faster now, thump-thump-thumping as it hangs on to her every word, torn between wanting to leave her for lying to him, and wanting to hold her and ease the pain she’s clearly feeling as she speaks.

“So he offered you a deal,” he supplies. He’s heard of Rumplestiltskin’s methods, of how he preys on the weak by offering solutions to their problems.

She nods, ashamed, and admits, “It sounded so easy. He would use my power to vanquish some of his enemies and I would get my father back. And I did, he healed, and I got to spend a few weeks with him...”

“And then?” Robin prods, though his tone is patient, calm.

“And then Rumple’s enemies found us, and they took him from me.”

“The official story says his heart stopped beating.”

Regina laughs humorlessly.

“That’s what my advisors told the people, so as not to create any mayhem,” she tells him. “But he was murdered, Rumplestiltskin saw to that.”

“I don’t understand, why would he let them kill a man he just saved?” Robin asks.

“Why does the Dark One do anything?” she returns. “These enemies, they... they knew he was drawing power from somewhere, and Rumple made them believed it was my father who provided it, not me. Because if he lost me, then...”

“Then he’d no longer have access to the Force,” he finishes for her. “Oh, Regina, I’m so sorry.”

“I tried to stop him, to refuse him access to my powers, but he said my end of the bargain wasn’t fulfilled yet, that his enemies haven’t been vanquished, so until they are, I’m nothing but a servant, and he'll continue using the Dark Side of the Force, through me.”

“What if you run?” he asks, in a desperate attempt to give her a solution.

“Then Naboo would be destroyed,” Regina tells him with a sad smile. “He doesn’t need the Dark Side to do that, just some well-placed explosives. So, I’m a lousy queen, but I stay, even if I’m a prisoner to Rumple’s whims, I can still protect my people here. They’re all I’ve got left.”

He doesn’t think, doesn’t stop himself, throws his arms around her and holds on tight, feeling her tears drench his shirt as they finally fall.

“Those deaths,” she blubbers. “I wasn’t— ever since he tapped into the Dark Side I get these... urges. It’s like the power bottles up until I can’t contain it anymore and it just... explodes out of me. I didn’t mean to kill anyone, but I couldn’t stop it, and I tried, Robin, I tried so hard.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he soothes, running a hand through her hair, and she pulls back slightly, but doesn’t extricate herself from his grasp, remains there, sighing as she looks at his chest, avoiding his eyes.

“The migraines, they started after the murders. I had nightmares where I yelled at them, over and over again, to move out of the way, that I couldn’t stop it, that they needed to leave, but they’d just stand there, waiting to die. I’d always wake up screaming, and the migraines would just get worse, until...”

“Until our lessons,” Robin finishes, but she shakes her head.

“It’s not just the lessons,” she explains. “From the day I met you, the nightmares went away. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but they did. Just being with you, talking or even just looking out at the lake like we do sometimes, makes the pain go away, makes me feel like me again. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to happy.”

The confession strikes him, has his heart swelling with feelings that have nothing to do with the Force and everything to do with her.

“So then trust me,” he insists. “Trust me when I say you’ll be okay.”

She sighs, looking apprehensive still, so Robin stretches out his hand to her, waiting.

“Do you trust me, Regina?” he asks.

“With my life,” she answers, and the immediate admission touches him deeply. “But Robin—”

“Then come with me,” he presses. “Nothing bad will happen, I promise.”

Slowly, so slowly, she finally lets her delicate hand fall onto his, finally lets him guide her back to the balcony’s edge. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and jumps with him, and Robin has never been more proud.

He keeps her hand clasped in his, the basket of food dangling from his other one, and together they begin to walk by the shore of the lake. The Force is stronger when he’s touching her, he can feel the trees breathing, the wind that gusts with every flap of a bird’s wings, the life of everything around him, down to the very core of the planet, churning and moving Naboo slowly around its sun.

He’d happened upon this spot in one of his excursions a couple of weeks ago, a hidden oasis behind curtains of vines and moss just a few minutes away. There’s a pack of shaaks frolicking around, waterfalls dipping into the earth, and the ground is soft, with grass and wildflowers laid out like patchwork under the sun.

They eat there, on the floor, laughing when some of the creatures in the meadow come to beg for scraps. Robin can feel her, the beating of her heart, the shortness of her breath as she laughs and laughs and laughs at a shaak that wobbles and falls by the water, splashing them both.

“You’re stunning, you know that?” he tells her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “In every way.”

He smiles at her blush, at the shy way in which she looks down at their hands and squeezes. He drifts closer without meaning to, only realizes he’s doing it when she pulls back slightly.

“We can’t,” she says at last, a mere whisper swallowed by the wind. “Jedi aren’t allowed to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, sighing. “But... it feels right.”

She can’t argue with that, he knows she can’t. The Force shows her his feelings every time they practice together, shows her the way his heart beats for her, how his whole world lights up the moment he sets eyes on her. It’s something they’ve chosen to ignore, to not even speak of as he carries on teaching her how to channel the light, but it’s there, stronger and stronger with every passing day.

“If Rumplestiltskin finds out, he’d... he’d hurt you, like he did my father.”

“He won’t find out,” Robin tells her.

“You can’t promise that. And what about the Jedi Council? You could lose everything, Robin,” she insists, her voice breaking. “Your whole life would be destroyed because of me, and you’d resent me for it, I know you would. Maybe not at first, but eventually, it would catch up with us. And the thought of you looking at me like everyone else does, with... hatred—” she sighs, “It just might kill me.”

He’d agree with her, except she’s forgotten one thing.

When they started this, all he wanted was to help her, to show her that there was a better way than darkness, but it turns out she’s the one who has taught him. She’s taught him beauty, and joy, and... love. Has given him a sense of belonging he’s never had with anyone else. He _belongs_ with her, finds home in her, in a way he never thought possible.

So yes, he could lose everything, the life he’s built, his whole world as he knows it, but he’d be gain so much more. Her affection, her love, is worth more to him than anything now.

“Stop thinking,” he pleads, moving closer and cradling her face in his hand. “We’re here now, and this is true. Forget the consequences for a moment, Regina, and do what you truly want to do, what your heart tells you to do.”

And then she kisses him.

It seems his words ignite something in her, something that propels her forward, hands fisting on his robes as she pulls him in and crashes their lips together.

There’s a moan, he’s not sure if it’s his or hers, but he hears it, kisses her back instantly, his hand finding her hair and threading through it, thumb caressing her cheekbone for a moment before it, too, dives into the mass of dark curls, massaging the nape of her neck as he surrenders to this explosion of sensation.

He feels the Force within her, feels it swirling in his own heart, and how could this be wrong, when every fiber of his being is erupting with light, the current tingling and wonderful as she opens her mouth to him.

Robin is lost to the taste of her, the feel of her, the way her lips close over his bottom one and suck. He pulls her closer, holds her tighter against him as his tongue peeks out to taste hers. This time, the moan is most definitely his, his hands roaming up her sides, down to the small of her back, until he’s fallen down on the grass and hoisted her atop him, her whole body pressed against his, warmth spreading through him from inside out.

Her lips are soft, and plump, and perfect as he kisses them, his teeth sinking slowly into her upper one and pulling lightly. She whimpers, melts into him at the action, and he lifts his head from the grass a little so he can chase her mouth when she pulls away for breath. When he catches her again, she gasps into the new kiss, and then that gasp turns into a moan when his tongue seeks hers out again, his hands roaming up and down her back, caressing her bare shoulders, exposed by the low-hanging sleeves of her dress.

“Regina,” he gruffs, feeling the vibrations of the Force all around her as she kisses him again, and again, and again, veering away from his mouth, down his neck and back up, one of her hands on his chest while the other plays with the hair at his temples.

When they part, her eyes are so close, he can see the flecks of gold in them, can see the happiness he knows is reflected on his own.

“I— ” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“I know,” she tells him, smiling as she brushes the tip of her nose against his.

“I don’t care about the Council,” he says then, because he wants her to know this. “I don’t care if they don’t approve, if they take away my title. I didn’t care before I met you, and I’m not about to start now. And I could never resent you, Regina, you’re everything to me.”

She pushes away from him as he finishes talking, sits up back on the grass and waits for him to join her. Her breathing is deep, and there are tears in her eyes.

“What is it?” he asks, taking her hand and kissing her palm.

She moves that hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the stubble there, and tells him, “I just never thought I’d have this.”

The sentiment tugs at his heart, has him leaning in for a soft, sweet kiss. It’s meant as a chaste thing, something to reassure her that this is real, that he’s here for her, but it seems he’s grown addicted to the tingling current that runs through him when he touches her, because he lingers, deepens the exchange by taking her lower lip between his and sucking there, the tip of his tongue running along it tenderly as his hand moves to her hair again, keeping her there with him.

“You’re quite a good kisser, you know that?” he says when they part, taking a deep breath as his forehead falls gently onto hers, his eyes closed still.

She chuckles at his words, pulls back and commends, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

And then her expression goes somber, and he can feel all her worries coming back, the weight of all the possible ways that this could go wrong settling back in her chest, a frown marring her features once again.

“Hey,” he says softly, bringing her back to the present as he takes her hand and squeezes in assurance. “I’m in. I’m all in.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and there’s a hint of hope in her tone, one that he wants to nurture and help grow, so he brings her hand to his lips, kisses her knuckles, and promises,  _ Yeah _ .

Her teary smile is tentative, but beautiful, and Robin sits there, enraptured by her. She’s an enigma, his Regina. A broken soul covered by a harsh exterior, decorated in bold makeup and elaborate outfits that he’s come to realize act only as armor, protecting her from the outside world.

And he vows then to make that armor fall away forever, to show the beauty underneath to the entire galaxy.

Because she deserves that, she deserves to be appreciated, and loved and  _ happy _ .


End file.
